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of the same blood | luce & nell (ft. ???)

SUGGESTED LISTENING: if i go, im goin’ & deep end. TIMING: the night of beltane, following these. ( 1 ) ( 2 ) LOCATION: the vural home. PARTIES: @divineluce and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: the sisters remember that they don’t always have to do things alone. CONTAINS: sibling death mentions, sibling death grief.

Hair still damp from the shower, Luce made her way to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. The house was quiet, though it was almost always quiet now. Ever since Bea had gone to New York with Felix, the house felt empty without her presence. Just like it had felt nearly a year ago. Fuck. A year ago. A year ago, she’d been… she’d been at the Beltane ritual with Nell. They’d watched August fall, she’d held her flames to his face, threatened him. She should have killed him, she’d done the right thing. She’d hesitated, she’d shown mercy. No. No, no, no. What was done was done. She couldn’t go over the what if’s, not any more. Shutting the refrigerator, Luce grabbed a glass from the cupboard and the whiskey from the bar. She wanted something stronger than beer. Popping the cap off, Luce poured herself a generous glass of whiskey and took a long sip. She leaned against the kitchen island, hands cradling the glass. What’s done was done. The past was behind her. Life went on. Life went on. But the echoes of the past still remained.

Nell had stayed in her tree until the flames of the coven’s fires had turned to ash, and every spellcaster had left the clearing empty. A desperate part of her had wanted to go up to where the bonfires had been burning— to touch the ash and see if it was still warm. But at least she’d had enough self-respect to prevent herself from doing so, taking the long route home instead. She hadn’t yet realized that the cinders of the fires had flown up into her roost in the branches, leaving a few smudges on her face as she walked through the door and into Luce’s party of one. The sight of whiskey was a welcome one, and the younger sister wasted no time in grabbing herself a glass before leaning next to Luce. “Are you going to share?” She didn’t want to think of the past anymore tonight, but as she looked at the liquor in Luce’s hand she couldn’t help but remember the memorial drinks they’d raised to Bea nearly a year ago. Could this be the same bottle of liquor? No, she was pretty sure Luce had downed the rest of that spirit when she’d gone out to set the trees ablaze.

The smell of smoke was what caught Luce’s attention, moreso than the sound of the door opening or even the sight of her younger sister walking in. It was the familiar scent of fire, fueled by magical intent. It was the scent of home. Of family. Had Nell been to the coven? She couldn’t have been there, there was no way. The excommunication had fallen like an iron curtain between them and the rest of the coven, final and unyielding. “Nope.” Luce said as she poured Nell a glass of whiskey. “Ice?” She asked, sipping again from her own glass. The whiskey burned, hot and familiar, but not in the way that she wished to burn. She wanted her fire back. She wanted her life back. But that was never going to happen. “So, what have you been up to?” She asked, wiping at her own forehead purposefully. 

Nell’s eyes rolled in response to Luce’s brief answer, though she wasn’t surprised in the least. It wasn’t as if she’d expected her sister to have suddenly become the waitress of her dreams, despite Nell’s best efforts to make her one ever since she could string a sentence together. Still, there was whiskey in her glass, so Nell was happy. Or...as happy as she could be after witnessing a scene she wanted both to be a part of, yet have nothing to do with. “Yes, ice.” Hopefully the chill of it would wake her up a little in addition to the sting of the whiskey, bringing some life back into the numbness that had set into her bones on the walk home. A brief look of confusion settled on Nell’s face as she mindlessly mirrored Luce’s motion, taking the hint as she rubbed her own hand across her forehead. When it came away with a smudge of black she knew she’d been caught. A sigh later and she was taking a long drink of her glass before answering. “Oh you know- just sitting in trees in the forest.” She knew the answer wasn’t the one her sister was looking for, nor one Luce would accept. “I just went out to see Beltane or whatever. Mom sends her love,” she finished sarcastically, an age old shield from the true weight of the words.

Turning to the freezer, Luce grabbed a few cubes from the ice box and dropped them into the bottom of Nell’s cup, careful to set them in before they could melt against her skin. She stared at the amber liquid in her glass, thinking about drinking from the same glasses last year. That night, that terrible fucking night when she’d learned that Bea was dead. The night that she had learned that someone had killed her sister without a second thought. And she’d tried to drown the ache in her heart with whiskey, to burn it from her soul with fire. It hadn’t worked. None of it had worked. Even now, even with Bea returned to the world, she still couldn’t shake the hollow sense of loss. Particularly not on days like this, when she remembered just how different life had been one short year ago.

Luce raised an eyebrow skeptically at Nell’s words, but the expression shifted to shock when she admitted to what she’d been doing. “You went to the ritual?” She repeated. “Nell…” Why had she done that? If she’d been caught, the consequences would have been severe-- they were exiled from the coven, banished for practicing necromancy. What would she have had to gain by going and risking her neck like that? “Why’d you go?” She asked. 

Bea was in the living world once again, but her ghost was one that still constantly haunted the sisters, forcing Nell to live her future as if she were doing it from the past. Almost a year ago she’d barely been able to come into the kitchen let alone stand in it to have a whiskey along with Luce. It had been Bea’s place, it was still her place even as the eldest sister was off in New York along with Felix, hopefully living her new life to the fullest. But it was nights like these that made it hard to remind herself that Bea was still alive when she wasn’t here in the flesh to remind Nell. The witch looked to the scars on her arms, the ones she’d earned from Bea’s resurrection to make it more real. The scars were here, so Bea was here...even if she wasn’t here with them. 

Why had she gone to the ritual? Nell hadn’t particularly planned on it until she’d found herself walking the familiar path, and climbing her hidden tree. “Habit?” she joked stupidly, as if she could blame her actions on the fact that they were the same ones she’d been doing on this day for as long as she could remember. “I didn’t go, go. I just sat in a tree where no one could see me and watched.” She’d felt like something of a vulture, perched in the leaves as she feasted on whatever scraps of gathered magical intent managed to fly her way. But again— she knew Luce would want a better answer than that. No more secrets. That’s what they’d promised one another after the youngest witch’s secrets had killed the eldest. “I don’t know…” she grumbled a bit more sincerely. “I just wanted to see it.” Did Luce miss their coven in the same agonizing way of knowing it was wrong to want something that didn’t want them?

Luce snorted at Nell’s initial answer, knowing it was a knee jerk reaction. Because that’s how Nell played the game-- she joked. She made fun of herself, brushed things off with a silly joke or some off-beat observation. It was what she’d always done to keep the focus off her problems. And Luce knew that. She’d always known it. But, she’d never really cared to call her sister out on it because, fuck, she had her own ways of brushing people away. They were a result of their mother’s singular bid for perfection with Bea and it showed. Tracing a triangle against the cool marble countertop, Luce mulled over Nell’s words. She’d stayed hidden, even though that must have hurt even more. To be so close you could hear the words, feel the magic in the air, smell the smoke and ash in the wind?

A lump formed in the back of her throat and she nodded once. “I wish I’d gone with you.” Instead, she’d run to the woods. Just like she always did. She’d run to the woods before, separating herself from her family for years and now she wished she could take that time back. Five years. Five years, she’d lived in this town but never realized just how much she had. She’d been selfishly devoted in her pursuit of what? One upping her sister who’d never wanted to make their shared existence a competition? “We’ve only got each other. And Bea-- always Bea. But… for now, it’s just us.”

Luce’s answer was one that surprised Nell, still not all that used to the concept of doing things as one with her sisters rather than apart— even nearly a year after being reminded that they were a unit of three, broken when the circle was disrupted. “We could go back, if you want. I bet the ashes are still warm. You know...together.” But even that felt like the wrong answer. They were supposed to be moving forwards, not going back. Alone, Nell could barely remember to pluck herself from the past, but alongside her sister it was easier to see that a return to what they’d had before wasn’t a path that led onward in the least. “Or...or we could…” Nell trailed off uselessly, still not knowing how to step into the shoes of someone who knew how to move on, even if she’d just barely started to realize that by obsessing over things that were done, she might be left behind along with them. But the lessons those things had taught...those were what she couldn’t let go of— the things she needed to remember to ensure that nothing like what had come to pass ever happened again. She just hadn’t figured out to sift through them, didn’t know how to pick up the pieces she could carry without strapping the rest of it onto her back, inevitably crushed under the weight of it when it proved to be far too much to handle. 

Still, Nell nodded at the mention of Bea, knowing Luce’s words were true. They were another reminder of the most important thing they’d stumbled upon in losing one of their own. They’d found each other along with the knowledge that so long as there were two of them standing alongside the other...they would manage. “I know. And I’m- I’m glad you’re here. And I want to do something with you tonight- I really do.” She still had plenty of time to be with Luce before she went to see Adam for the rest of the evening. “I just...I miss her, too. I miss Bea.” It was hard to remind herself that she and Luce were two, when she could barely remember that all together they were three.

Nell was trying. She was trying so hard. And Luce knew that, they both knew it. They both knew how hard it was, being cast out from everything they’d ever known. Growing up, the coven had been a second family to her, the other members helping to raise the three of them alongside their parents. But they had been banished from the coven. Locked out of one of the only places that could ever understand who they were. It was only now that Luce realized just how much she’d taken the coven for granted and how much she truly valued the community they’d grown up in. As much as she would have loved to go back, to try and reclaim what was lost? “We can’t. We can’t do that and you know it too. We’re not… We can’t get the old days back and trying will only make it worse.” She shook her head. The words made her heart ache, because there was nothing more that she wanted to do than to go to the ritual spot, to see the familiar grounds, to see the ashen remains of the Beltane celebration. But there was no going back to the way things had been. Life moved on. And she was trying her best to be at peace with that. She just hoped that Nell could too.

Taking another long sip from her glass, Luce offered a weak smile. “You better be glad I’m here.” She joked, though a part of her wondered if she could actually do it. Could she ever leave this place? Could she ever leave Nell? She’d done it before and hated herself for leaving. She’d abandoned the people she’d cared about for a month, left them at the mercy of this town-- this fucking town. She couldn’t do it again. She wouldn’t. She’d stay by Nell’s side for as long as her sister needed her, wanted her. And when Bea returned, she’d stay by Bea too. “I want to do something too. I… I went into the woods earlier today. By myself.” She said with a shake of her head. “I’m still trying to break the habit of doing shit alone. But yeah. I’d like to do something with you too.” At the mention of their sister, Luce let out a sigh before looking around the kitchen. She could see echoes of her sister still lingering in this space. Bea, cooking at the stove, music playing from a speaker as she watched a pot on the stove. Drinks shared late at night in the corner nook, the three of them tipsy and giggling. Remnants, that was all they were left with now. “Yeah. I miss her too.”

The house they lived in was haunted, but not in the traditional White Crest sense of ghosts and ghouls. They’d lived some of their worst moments in these walls— couldn’t look at certain corners of it without being thrown back into the memories of a year ago. The feeling was only exacerbated by the missing sister of their trio, Nell constantly needing to remind herself that Bea would cook in this kitchen again, that the home would fill with the eldest daughter’s spirit sooner, or possibly even later rather than never. “If you weren’t here I sure as hell wouldn’t be,” Nell answered with a chuckle, perhaps a little too honest in her attempt to be brief. But it was true. The house was only bearable because Luce was in it. Living together was good for both of them despite the fact that it ended out days in shouting matches as often as it did with laughter. Sisters would be sisters, and Luce gave Nell a grounding that she desperately needed simply by being here. She couldn’t know for certain whether the same could be said for Luce, but she suspected as much. They needed one another whether they wanted to or not. And Nell wanted to. “Then let’s do something. It’s not like we can’t go out and make our own bonfire, right? I’m sure Taki would be more than happy to provide some flames.” She didn’t want to poke at her sister’s struggle with her magic, but figured addressing it off the bat was a decent method of getting it out of the way. “How was...the woods for you? You know I’m shit at doing stuff together too, sometimes. But I think the fact that we’re trying is something, right? And I mean...I appreciate it- knowing that you’re trying and stuff.” As for Bea… “What do you think she’s doing today? Maybe we could FaceTime her or something if we decide to burn something.”

As for going back to days past, Nell knew it wasn’t something she should be doing. “It’s not even necessarily that I want the days back I just-” She didn’t know how to find a balance between bitterness and longing, the two so thoroughly wrapped up in one another she could barely tell them apart when it came to the coven and the rest of her family. It felt as if she’d hit the ground running last year and just...never stopped running. And now it was too late to adjust— she didn’t know how to slow down and force herself to find a new normal that didn’t make her sneer in judgement at both those she’d lost as well as herself for missing them. “I can’t even figure out what I want.” How could she give herself the peace she sought, when she didn’t even know what peace she was looking for?

Luce let out another wry chuckle and nodded in agreement. If Nell wasn’t here, Luce wouldn’t be here either. She’d be back at her cabin, most likely. Living there, staying in the woods. Isolating herself from the world again, but without the coven this time. She would be truly alone, without either of her sisters at her side. Even if Nell still lived in the town, even if Bea was still alive and breathing and walking on this plane, she would be alone. And Luce wasn’t sure if that was the right thing for her now. Losing her sister, losing her family, losing her coven-- did she really want to lose more?  “Yeah, neither would I. This place… it’s hers, you know? At the end of the day, it’s Bea’s.” She said, gesturing to the kitchen around them with her whiskey glass. It was Bea’s through and through. Every wall and fixture, it was a part of their sister. And living here without her in it, was… hard. Because they had to live with the memory of those terrible, silent weeks without her. “I like the sound of a bonfire though. It’d be nice to do something like that here. And hey, it gives Taki the opportunity to cut loose.”

At her sister’s question, Luce mulled over her experience. “It was… peaceful. Good, in its own way. Reminded me of the purpose of Beltane, you know? Spring turning to summer, the seasons passing. Life moving on. It was grounding. Sometimes I just get so stuck on how things used to be,” How I used to be, “That it gets hard to remember that life is always going to change.” She said. At Nell’s mentions about doing things together, Luce shrugged. “None of us are great at doing things together. But yeah. I’m glad we’re trying too. And I know that you’re doing your best, Nellie.” 

Listening to Nell speak, Luce rolled her glass between her hands contemplatively. “And that’s okay too. It’s okay to not know what you want.” She nodded. “I’m not going to pretend like I know what’s going to happen or that things will work out for the best. Because they might not.” Luce’s fingers flexed, the absence of her flames even more present than normal, “But I’ve got faith in you finding your way. Might not be tomorrow or even a year from now, but you’ll find it.” Tossing back the last of her whiskey, Luce glanced at her phone, “Yeah, FaceTiming Bea might be a good idea. I’m betting she’s gone full nocturnal living with Felix.”

Nell nodded as Luce outlined the ways in which this place belonged to Bea. “Yeah...it really is her’s.” Even before she’d died, the sisters had only owned spaces of it, holed the bits of them up into their rooms to make their own little homes within a house. And Nell hadn’t minded. Not when Bea was here to liven the spaces up with her own energy, and there’d been only good memories that filled the walls. But living here without Bea felt as if she were stuck in that month long hell of getting their sister back— a tape that simply looped over on itself countless times as Nell was forced to stare at the screen. How was she meant to move forwards when she lived in a place that forced her to relive the worst days she’d had? She couldn’t move on with her life when she was still stuck in the one she’d been living a year ago. 

“Oh absolutely. It’s been a minute since Taki got to really go to town. And I bet Iggy’d have fun too what with all his...frustrations as of late.” Nell snickered at the tail end of her words, not to subtly alluding to the familiar’s horny mating season state. “But I mean...like witch, like familiar, I guess.” A somber air returned to her as she listened to Luce, happy that her sister had begun to find her peace. There was a flare of envy trying to work its way into her throat, but Nell tamped it down before it could truly surface, unwilling to risk this moment and future that Luce so thoroughly deserved. “I’m glad you got to do it for yourself- even if it was hard in a way. But I guess you’re right about the change and stuff.” A half-smile showed up on Nell’s lips as Luce granted the affirming words. “And I know you’re doing your best, Lulu.” They were trying, and that’s what mattered most. 

Perhaps it was okay that Nell wasn’t sure of what she wanted, but she wished she could pin it down nonetheless. It was exhausting having the things she wished for constantly trying to battle one another for dominance, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stomach if before making a choice born out of simply wanting it all to end. Still— at least she had Luce’s faith in her, which was more than she’d ever gotten from their mother. “Thanks, Luce...really. You’re usually pretty dumb, but sometimes you’re kinda smart, I guess.” The heavy tone of the evening was settling into something else as they spoke of Bea and bonfires, and a full chuckle found Nell’s head titling along with it as she spoke. “You know how she only wears white, now? I bet she’s so fucking pale she’ll blend right in with her shirt on the screen. Here— I can just call her now, and we can laugh at how much of a vampire she looks like.” Tugging her phone out of her pocket, Nell clicked on Bea’s name, waiting for her sister’s face to show up on the screen.

If there was anything Bea was certain of, it was that her sisters were finding a way to make this holiday far more morose than it needed to be. It was their first Beltane being outside of a coven, but Bea had not celebrated with the Coven before. She knew they didn’t need a coven to make the holiday and she would teach her sisters. Her fingers had been twisting through Felix’s hair in the dark comfort of their bedroom when she thought of her sisters alone, stumbling through this new terrain. She had left White Crest to find herself in a new light, to learn to keep her chin up with the new crown of shadows she had obtained, and she had. There was no part of Bea that felt broken or wrong any longer. She had been put back together and for too long she felt the tug of the stitches holding her, but now that tug was no longer felt. Her skin was her own, stitches and all. Beatrice Vural had evolved and grown, she had become something no one had expected. She was as much a monster as anyone else in White Crest and that was the only reason she could drive her car across the boundaries of town. Wicked’s Rest had missed her and she had missed it, but before she made her reappearance in town, she had sisters to celebrate with. Her phone began to vibrate in her purse as her keys slipped into the familiar lock of her home. She swung open the door, lowered her sunglasses as her cherry red lips split into a grin. “If this is how we’re celebrating this year, I should have stayed in New York.”

— && guests may mistake me as ( elizabeth olsen ), but really i am ( jolie madison + cis female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 7/29/1992 ). i am a ( musician ) and would like to stay in suite ( 314 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( driven, audacious, & charismatic ), but i can also be ( perfectionistic, reticent & self-sabotaging ) at times. personally, i like to ( paint, hike, try new recipes & sing karaoke ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( chai sugar cookies ) to have in my suite.

hi everyone! i’m red, and the only excuse i have for this dropping so late is that Work Sucks and has held me up, but i am here and ready to love u all! rlly, what better to do with the remaining bits of summer ( and being awake, tbh ) than join this super cute group and put my intro post together? so yes, here is the 411 on jolie, with a more *~cohesive~* bio and stats page on their way — i am so excited to get to know all of your muses and begin interacting! i promise i do not bite so if you’re feeling brave, pop over in the ims, or, just wait me out, because i’m sure i’ll be appearing in them soon enough :~)

general info

full name: jolie drew madison

nicknames: j, jo, jojo (calling her this is a bit of a death sentence unless you have explicit permission), mads

date of birth: july twenty-ninth, 1992 (27)

zodiac: leo

sexual orientation: bisexual

birthplace: chicago, illinois

occupation: musician

hogwarts house: slytherin

mbti: enfj

suite #: 314

tw: drug use

past

born on a wednesday in chicago, illinois to a set of parents who had a very “informal” relationship to say the least — to make a complicated situation as cut and dry as possible, jolie’s parents were best friends with benefits. her mom wound up pregnant and decided to keep the baby. instead of jumping to some rash decision like getting married solely for the sake of their child, they decided to simply remain friends and split custody in the best way they knew how that didn’t require a mediator in the form of a family court judge. her parents remained close friends (and still are) once jolie was born; custody was weirdly split with jolie spending the majority of her time with her mom. they were an unconventional sort of family but a family nonetheless. dad does something with numbers (yes, think chandler bing), and mom is a local business owner.

as a kid, jolie never knew a stranger, and therefore had no trouble making friends once she hit school age. she was the kid who never found her niche group or “clique” because her feet were wet in several of them. school was not a miserable time for her. she had her friends, was a solid a/b student. jolie was a big perfectionist though, it not uncommon for her to beat herself up over something incredibly minute and self-sabotaging herself as punishment or because she didn’t know how to adequately process her feelings of anxiousness — she’d procrastinate, cut people off or drive them away, things of that nature.

music was always in her life, but it was a very casual thing in her world, situated on a backburner. it was something that she was able to bond over with her dad more so than her mom; her dad was a massive music junkie, loved sharing his favorite songs with her, bought her her first vinyl player when she was twelve and supplied her with every album under the sun, whether it was one she wanted or one of his favorites or just one he thought she might enjoy. she was in dance classes as a preschooler (this was an epic fail, because not even her rhythm could save her from the generally awkward disaster she is whenever she dances) and took piano lessons in elementary school, but she didn’t love either? she felt very restricted when it came to formal lessons, and almost needed the freedom to explore and learn it on her own terms — she ended up teaching herself guitar on her dad’s guitar on the weekends she spent at his place. there was also the 6 month stint her junior year of high school when she and some friends started a garage band (which jolie represses to a certain degree because the embarrassment it invokes is on another level) but it was mostly just an idea formulated from boredom and was something to pass the time, nothing really serious. 

jolie found herself at a bit of a crossroads after her graduation. most of her friends were off to college but college did not seem like the kind of environment for her. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with herself or her life, but she knew she had to do something. so she pretty much copied and pasted what one of her close friends was doing at the time, decided to go to northwestern and share an apartment with her and pray that something would speak to her along the way. spoiler alert: nothing did. her first year quickly fizzled and faded for her and most of her time was spent going to parties, embracing the social scene, the like. nothing of real educational value.  

she was still fucking around when it came to music; she’d met some people in one of her creative writing classes (the only class that she legitimately finished and enjoyed) and would go to open mic nights or other gigs around town. never meeting a stranger meant jolie was good at networking, making friends with other musicians — the more she spent time immersed in the world, the more she felt compelled towards music. she began writing songs that weren’t just the product of teenage angst (see: that awful high school band), even took a few music classes at northwestern. 

by the time she hit her junior year, she was over classes and was pretty much only taking filler classes still, wasting her money while she bar tended at one of the bars close by. but she’d never felt more creatively charged; she was putting her nose to the grindstone in writing songs, recording songs in her bedroom so she wouldn’t wake up her roommates, playing gigs on her nights off work literally anywhere that would take her, and using those new-er friendships to her advantage. she had gained some local traction but things really didn’t explode until she started posting original songs online and got contacted by a few record labels. jolie was hesitant to sign with anyone but she got one of her friends in pre-law to help her look over contracts and pretend to be her manager and eventually signed. subsequently, she dropped out of college and went to work on the music thing full time.

from 21-23, jolie was pretty much doing nothing but playing festivals and clocking in hours at studios. most of her time was spent on the road and she absolutely loved it  — she loved the music festival atmosphere, loved the crowds, loved meeting other bands and fans. she was pretty much touring on the few songs she had released, covers, and unreleased tracks from a wip, but it worked for her and it worked for the fans. she released her first album, ultraviolet on her 23rd birthday, and hit the road again. 

jolie missed her “college” life with the parties and socialization at her fingertips, so she started elbowing her way into that scene while she was on tour — at first, it wasn’t anything to bat an eye at, but jolie’s limits were very fluid. being on tour was draining and the perfectionist in her would always find something to berate herself about, and getting out of her head was the only way that she felt she could truly enjoy the whirlwind success that was happening to her. the drugs started as a one-time thing, just to try it, and then she was using regularly, and then it got to a point where she couldn’t go more than an hour without a line of coke. the drugs stripped away a lot of what made her jolie and left her with a more miserable, grouchier version of herself where her highs were almost normal and likable and the lows were hell to be around. 

she came off of ultraviolet’s tour and essentially jumped right back into the studio (she was beginning to break through in mainstream music, with her last promotional single off ultraviolet hitting mainstream radio and doing fairly well) for album #2. it was finished and ready to go, but by that point, the drug use had gotten to an all-time high and the constant turning a blind eye to it from her team was no longer possible. she ended up od’ing and that was it  — there was an intervention in the hospital room, and it was off to rehab for jolie. album got postponed and she basically fell off the radar.

she didn’t really make a “comeback” until she was knocking on 26′s doorstep, and by that point she’d been in rehab, getting sober, and then laying low for nearly two years. by the time she was releasing her first single for the new album cycle, she’d all but scrapped the record she’d made before rehab and had something else put together entirely. she released wonderland, which did very, very well. she toured for it and it was wildly different than anything she’d done prior — venues were bigger, more fans, just a whole different circus all around. 

probably the one thing she was more proud of than the music was her sobriety, and going on two years of being sober, not much else was important to her. she knew had a pretty black and white view of was good for her and what wasn’t, so after the tour wrapped, she decided to come home. she never pegged herself for the type to get “homesick” because her spirit was very much the wandering type, but she knew she needed to get out of la and nyc. back to chicago it was — which is how we get to the malnati. 

present

she’s in what she’d aptly describe as “professional limbo” — she’s not actively working on any one project, she’s just kind of floating until she can find something to tether herself to, whether it’s a single song or an album or something else that appears on her radar. she’s just taking things easy for the time being.

career wise, think marina, l*na —  more of a cult favorite than a mainstream artist. not going to get mobbed when she goes out and about, able to fly under the radar for the most part. as far as her music goes, i don’t necessarily know if i’ll claim any one artist’s discography and adopt as her own; in my head, jolie’s alt pop. think somewhere along the lines of hayley williams, st. vincent, tove lo, splash of the 1975.

personality wise at this point in her life: will charm the pants off of just about anyone she comes into contact with. flirty. a little goofy, hella sarcastic. there’s method to her madness even if no one else gets it. is still a little guarded when it comes to talking about herself. doesn’t mind talking about what’s happened to her but when it comes to the feelings and emotions as to why those things happened, she shuts down. it’s why she’s a musician: why talk about your feelings when you could just write them into a song and pretend they don’t exist beyond that, lmao. is the passive aggressive type, bottles things up and simmers. 

being in the kitchen and cooking has been a tactile sort of therapy for her, especially in her hiatus years. she loves trying new recipes, baking at random (all) hours, sometimes likes to pretend she’s on an episode of master chef. she’s a dork, your honor.

has a thing for polaroids. she has a blank moleskine notebook that she has put through a total ringer, gluing polaroids and other little mementos onto pages as a journal of sorts.

has a stick and poke tattoo (among other professional ones) on her ribcage that she gave herself when she was sixteen. it’s a tiny smiley face. 

her middle name came from her dad’s middle name (andrew).

if you want someone to go out with you at night (or during the day, she’s not picky) and just aimlessly wander around the city, letting things find you, she’s your girl. she loves a good adventure.

i headcanon jolie as predominantly dirty blonde/brunette lizzie? but she is also the type who has ruined her hair over the years over all the impromptu dying so... welcome to close your eyes and pretend hour.

plot ideas

this is by no means a comprehensive list of plots, just stuff off the top of my head that i’d like to see? again, i promise i don’t bite, so pls hmu if one of these appeals to you or if you just wanna brainstorm, i live for that shit!!

jolie’s a chicago native, went to college here, so 👀

meredith to her cristina — basically her best friend (not gender specific, either) who tells it to jolie like it is, doesn’t mind if she laments about how the world sucks every now and again, the person she’s calling if she needs help with a body

physically and/or emotionally, somebody who checks in on jolie and that she checks in on as well. we love a solid support system

exes — jolie’s a little bit (a lot of bit) of a player?? so i’d love to see exes that maybe didn’t end too hot, ex fwb or ex flings that never made it official, people she ghosted, exes that don’t want to get back together but don’t like seeing each other with anyone else, anything under that sun

jolie also is a Lowkey (read: highkey) commitment-phobe, but i’d rlly love for her to maybe have an ex that she was so In Love with that she was willing to push through it bc she saw herself with them forever..... and then, for reasons tbd, it ended, and it absolutely crushed jolie

someone who, on the occasion of needing to scratch an itch, is very good about getting the job done. it’s casual sex. there are zero romantic feelings involved, there is no getting jealous when the other person finds a relationship, the two are just good friends who have seen (and will probably continue to see) each other naked #yeehaw

maybe someone who was at one of jolie’s gigs when she was still playing bars that she bought a drink and kept in touch with or smth? or someone she met when she was still predominately playing small sets at festivals? idk i’m rambling someone stop me

a “muse”??? like, someone jolie is fascinated with / inspired by and she finds herself writing songs about / for

gimme someone who’s like an acquaintance at best, they’ve maybe got mutual friends and therefore they hang out a bit but they’re always arguing with one another for whatever reason (they both probably annoy each other) but they’ve got mad sexual tension going on? maybe they act on it, maybe they don’t, but either way, they lowkey enjoy the bantering and being at one another’s throats even if they act otherwise

jolie is a night owl, so... gimme someone who she can turn up at their room at some unholy hour (or that turns up at her room at said unholy hour) and watch a movie with or make a mess of the kitchen from fixing a premature breakfast

maybe someone who knew jolie when she was not in a good place?? and things are still v much tense / unresolved between them for whatever reason

and stuff for the event omg PLS *makes grabby hands*

damn, lucy, back at it again. this is the second love of my life, jude ! i am here for all the plots, so please, slide into my IMs & i’ll love you forever. click under the cut to hear me rant some more about this jerk, or give me a like to slide into ur d-scord ;~) ! you can check out his factfile here and his pinterest here !

TW: addiction ( drug + alcohol ), physical abuse, death !!!

 [ LORENZO ZURZOLO / ARETE / MNEMOSYNE / MUSE 20 ] / [ JUDE CZERNY ] is a [ 21 ] year old [ MATHEMATICS ] major. [ HE ] is known for being [ GRITTY & LAID-BACK ] but [ FLIPPANT & MOODY ].  when i think of them, i imagine [ BLOODY KNUCKLES, SOUR CANDY, SPRINTS TO THE FINISH LINE, CHEAP T-SHIRTS ]. and even though they’re a proud HU student now, we all have our roots. theirs run back to them being an [ OAK PARK - COPERNICUS ] graduate.  i asked around and it turns out they [ ARE ] an AOP student. in their interview, they managed to woo the admissions team by [ CREATING A NEW PROOF FOR THE BIRCH AND SWINNERTON-DYER CONJECTURE ]. i guess that’s all there is to know! unless…

when you’re born, you’re an inconvenience. it’s 9pm on christmas eve when you come wailing into the world. neither the nurse that swaddles you tightly nor your parents particularly want to be in the cold hospital, shivering under neon fairy lights in the depth of a south chicagoan winter. neither do you. 

while you’re young, your mama is your hero. you don’t realise it yet, but she’s got a problem; there’s a reason why she sits zoned out on the couch as you tug at her cardigan, why your older brother has to cook you breakfast, brush your hair. and god bless him, he does it dutifully. when your mother tries to sober up, though, she’s perfect. she sings you lullabies in czech and kisses your nose, and you wish every night on the streetlight outside your window that the next day will be a good day.

most of the time, it isn’t. ruth sits complacent on the couch, glazed eyes fixed on the broken television. yet, even when she’s like this; she’s still better than your father. john drinks like a fish, and it brings out the worst side of him. he’s the most violent person you know. after every lost bet, every long night in the bar, you cower with your brother in your shared bed, head underneath the covers. yet it’s always still you that bears the brunt of his wrath.

it’s not your fault. thomas is the oldest, and the only useful one. phillip’s still small and cute, a couple of years younger than you, and looks exactly like your father. it’s you that’s stuck in the middle; you have your mother’s dreamy eyes and the sharp nose of your father, and it’s not enough to stop him from picking at you, pulling you apart. you always disliked him because he disliked you, right from the start.

you live like this for a long time. it’s not until you’re thirteen that your father drinks himself to death. he picks a fight with the wrong person, and bleeds out in an alleyway outside his favourite bar. despite all this, you can’t bring yourself to grieve. too often has your skin been tainted the same shade as your funeral suit from your father’s fists. good riddance.

your mom tries. she really does. but she can’t bring herself to get clean, even with your pleading. one day, they walk in on her shooting up. it’s essentially a death sentence for your family.

so instead, you three boys were torn from the last semblance of normality you had. no one wants three dysfunctional delinquents, but you cling together. screaming, tantrums, breaking things; you’ll anything to stop them from splitting you up. you’re not allowed any contact with your mother, and it breaks your heart, over and over again.

you never find a home for longer than a month. moving from group home to group home, they all have one quality in common: no one there really cares about you. quickly, you turn to crime. your father had taught you how to hotwire a care when you seven, baby-cheeked and innocent. he taught you how to pick a lock when you were six. it was the only thing he was good for.

it started with breaking and entering. you usually get away with it, too. burglary is easy when you were scrawny and small, and can shimmy in a window in seconds. besides, the money helps provide for the three of you; you run away often enough. you have to fend for yourself. at one point, you manage to spend an entire month homeless. but at least you’re still together.

as you grow older, you grow better at what you do. carjacking and vandalism seem more and more fun. the kids at the foster homes aren’t exactly shining examples, either; you were either being tossed around by the older kids, or asked to join in their schemes. you much preferred the second option. 

your life continues like this until you’re sixteen. you learn to throw a solid left hook quickly. you switch from high school to high school as you move from house to house, never able to settle. but you have your brothers. you’re as close to happy as you can be. then everything goes wrong. thomas gets caught.

you can’t let him get locked up. he’s just turned eighteen, and that means prison time. so instead, you take the fall. vandalism. breaking and entering. theft. willful destruction of property. you stand in front of the judge; she’s a pristine blonde woman from the lake forest suburbs, and she is not lenient on you. it’s juvenile prison or nothing. as your brothers watch on, you’re led away.

you spend a year there. it’s worse than any foster home, but you develop a thick skin. at least all the punches you take aren’t for nothing. it’s here that you learn you have dyslexia & adhd. it’s here you’re blinded in one eye after another inmate gets hold of a knife, catches you in the dark, makes you pay for someone else’s sins. it’s also here that you learn you’re extraordinarily gifted at maths. a prodigy, someone calls you. it’s funny. at school you had sat at the back of the classroom, never able to see the blackboard in maths class.

when you turn seventeen, you’re let out. thomas is nineteen, working as a mechanic, trying to make a legitimate living. quickly, he gets the paperwork sorted to make him your legal guardian, and phillip’s too; for the first time, the three of you are reunited again. 

you finish your final year of high school at oak park academy. you’d won a scholarship while in juvy, swearing you’d never return to the halls of your old school. oak park is an opportunity you’d never even dreamed of. you keep your head down and for the first time, you enjoy school. you make a few friends. no one here knows your troubled past, and you don’t tell them. you fly through maths problems like they’re simple sums, but english still evades you. you persevere, however, and graduate at the end of a long twelve months. not long enough. you wonder what your life would be like if you’d been here all along. 

and with the opportunity of oak park, comes hatchett. you applied to every university in the country, but you have your eye on one in particular. you turn up to your interview, stomach churning and hands shaking. still, you spit numbers like they’re silver, quick fingers scraping chalk across the blackboard, ignoring the observant eyes of the panel. you work like you’ve never worked before. by the time you leave, your arms are dusted with white, your brow sweaty; but from the approving looks, your heart soars. you get your acceptance letter, and you glow. a full ride. it’s a blank page, simply waiting. 

before you leave chicago for good, however, you have one last thing to do. after a mile long trail of paper and records, of doors slammed in your face and unanswered calls, you find your mom again. you’re surprised she’s still alive. she cries when you show up at her door, and your heart still bleeds when you watch her. even now you still call her, your voice thick with affection; yet you still tell people both your parents are dead. it’s easier that way.

your label is mnemosyne; memory. the memory of the life you used to live haunts you, like a ghost, long fingers digging into every corner of your brain. you’ll never forget the sharp glint of a knife, the screeching sirens of a police car, the smell of blood fresh on your knuckles. still, you tell yourself. you can change, you can change. you’re a shapeshifter now, boy. you’ve erased your old life from both your memory and everybody elses’. no-one needs to know — so you keep the memories of the real you tucked away deep inside your mind. you remember the soft smell of your mother’s hair. the pattern on your childhood duvet. your brother’s laugh, your brother’s crooked smile. you remember the important things, and leave the rest to be washed away by the tide of memory.

cisfemale — ever hear people say ANNABEL DE LA ROSA looks a lot like ADRIA ARJONA? I think SHE is about 30, so it doesn’t really work. The AUTHOR / BALLET INSTRUCTOR has lived in Livingstone for SIX MONTHS. They can be DILIGENT, but they can also be CYNICAL. I think ANNA might be A TIER 1 SHEPHERD. ( snot goblin. 20. est. she/they. )

i’m sry this took ... so long to put out ... ive been rly lazy these past few days but !! she is Here and she is Ready. i haven’t played her in a few months and last time she was a junior in high school so !! forgive me. but she’s a very old muse and has gone thru ... several fc changes. anyways !! please give this a LIKE if you’d like for me to slide into ur ims. 

TW: POVERTY, DIVORCE SORT OF, CAR ACCIDENT, TRAUMATIC INJURIES, MENTIONS OF DEATH, GRIEF.

a e s t h e t i c s

falling feathers darkened at the tips, leather jackets and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, bomber jackets and cropped tees, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

general info !!

full name: annabel maritza de la rosa

nickname(s): anna, annie (hates), anna banana (father, exclusively)

b.o.d. - october 31st. scorpio child.

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the crepehanger, the minefield

height: 5′7″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

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biography !!

born to two high schoolers who never married, mathías de la rosa and leonora nieves. they were head over heels for each other - when mathías graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until leonora graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, leonora’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals. 

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

leonora picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

mathías and leonora split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as leonora running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with leonora’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

went to columbia after graduation on a full scholarship - it’s one of her few sources of pride - where she earned her dual degree in english & investigative journalism ( mostly because she didn’t know what she wanted to do )

wrote and published a book based heavily on her experiences as a scholarship student at a private school - YA fiction, essentially - mostly just to dip her toes in the water and become established as an author. surprisingly - the book was a hit, and has written three more in the form of a small series. she also wrote a small book on what it’s like being a ‘psychic medium’.

annabel only came to livingstone after the apner family had left her a hefty email - pleading with her to connect to their dead son. it was in livingstone that annabel heard of the watershed app - and it was from there that her interest was peaked. she immediately found herself involved as a tier 1 shepherd.

she’s partially there to take notes - to learn as much about the app as she can - and partially to strengthen and build her side-business, though she had thought she was retired. the con, however, is too great to resist. essentially - she wants to become a high enough tier to learn the dirt on everybody, and then use that for her psychic business. 

decided to become a dance instructor due to her experience as a ballerina, but because she can’t really ... dance, has assistants that help her.

personality !!

lives in a semi-decent apartment downtown where the elevator would break every other week until she threatened her landlord and it was magically fixed permanently  :^)

that being said - she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - her students are all terrified of her, and rightfully so. she teaches dancers between the ages of 16-24. while incredibly hard on them - she’d rip someone a new one if they tried to hurt any of her students.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely ... hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager and young adult - is still the same, just ... less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best ... relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general. 

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

swore off love when she was 12 and during a fluke mid-twenties, wound up engaged. called off the engagement when she found her groom-to-be and her bridesmaid-slash-cousin together. very classic - very re-enforcing of a few of her greatest fears.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

her apartment is still half-packed, half-unpacked, because she honestly cannot be bothered. got out the essentials and that was it. still has her ballet shoes, still has all of her awards for competitions she’s won - they’re just in a box tucked away somewhere labeled ‘do not open’.

is actually ... a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them. 

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night ... like ... two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has a gun in her apartment, cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

kind of wants to write a novel based off of watershed so! she takes a lot of notes - tends to be very observant.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

wanted connections !!

maybe ... a roommate? i imagine her living alone but i also like the idea of having roommate so :^)

she’s sort of new in town so ! acquaintances. people who’ve seen her in town and are curious. people who’ve seen her like ... kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat into coming near her so she could pet it.

fans of her books !!

someone from new york who recognizes her from whatever !! whether it’s from newspaper details of her incident, her legacy at her private school, someone who went to the same college as her, her legacy as a ballerina before her incident, etc. etc.

has taken up boxing recently - so somebody whose helping her at the gym?

someone who tried to like. help her cross the road or something because they saw her with her cane and she yelled at them so now they’re in this weird spot.

students !! if somebody does ballet - she might be teaching them.

alternately, one of her assistants !!

someone she’s soft for for whatever reason :/

hookups !! preferably mid-20s to like. late-30s. she’s not a cougar, i’m sorry :(

somebody who wants her to be a cougar. and she just has to keep rejecting them.

customers who come to her for psychic readings and like. comfort in the form of talking to the dead.

people skeptical of her !! maybe trying to ruin her in some way.

other shepherds. someone higher up that she’s trying to manipulate in some way for her own benefits.

a drunk one night stand that neither wants to talk about.

a pregnancy scare with another, separate one night stand! it turned out to be nothing, but there was some. weirdness. between them afterwards.

a blind date or two dnfjgkmh

someone she ghosted :/

someone she’s like, protected from a creep at a bar or a club ! and now they feel indebted towards her and she’s just like uuuh no. stop.

annoyances !!

like ... maybe a pal or two, or three. mainly just people she gets along with !!

on the other end - something where they just. despise each other for whatever reason. pure hatred.

hatred but make it sexy.

a dealer because even though she can get medical marijuana ... it’s good to have a lil extra on ya :)

people She’s suspicious of for whatever reason - someone she caught doing something. suspicious. untrustworthy.

someone where their mail keeps getting mixed up.

uuh really im down for anything !!

Bailing Out

CHAPTER I: Under Arrest

pairing: tony stark x daughter!reader

summary: you’ve lived with your aunt and her family after your mother died. one day, you got arrested and your father whom you have never met came to bail you out.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i literally wrote this in half an hour time, i was just super motivated! i’ll turn it into a mini series, maybe two or three parts :)

also im sorry if something here isn’t accurate i have no clue how arresting works

masterlist || bailing out masterlist

“You are under arrest for obstruction of justice.” You heard the words coming out of the man’s mouth, as he slammed you against the car’s door, wrapping your wrists with handcuffs. You rolled your eyes, taking a seat in the rusty police car.

The ride to the police station was long and annoying. Growing up in a small town, you knew almost everyone who lived there and everyone knew you. At least they thought they did. “I can’t believe this, Y/N!” Your gaze moved from the car window to the review mirror, your eyes locking with the ones of the man driving the car. “I understand you’re going through stuff. But come on, ever since Lucy died, you’ve been acting like you just left the jungle. It’s time for you to start acting a bit more mature!”

You rolled your eyes, tired of your mother popping up in every other conversation you led. Ever since she died, it felt like everyone was pitying you. You didn’t know why though, it’s not like their pity would change anything.

After her death, you started living with your aunt, since your mother never bothered to tell anyone who your father was. You didn’t mind, though. You could get by on your own, but apparently, you had to be older than 18 to do so.

Entering the small cell, you turned around letting the policeman take your handkerchiefs off. “Thanks, Tim.” you said, turning towards the little wooden bench before taking a seat there. After a while, you got real bored and lost track of time, tempted to find a sharp item to carve something stupid like “Y/N WAS HERE.” on the walls or the floor. Or both. Maybe even the ugly bench you were sat on. On the second thought, the whole place smelled like Dave, the local drunk who got arrested every night for almost cracking someone’s skull open when things escalate at the bar. You sighed, leaning your head against the cold wall behind you.

Maybe you fell asleep, because the next thing you heard was Tim’s voice. “Y/N, don’t freak out.” You arched an eyebrow at him, suppressing a yawn. “Your father will be the one to bail you out.” Eyebrows furrowing closer together, you started laughing hysterically. “I’m serious.” he continued, trying to be louder than your outburst. “He’ll be here any minute now.” You stopped laughing. “How the hell did you find him now? Where the fuck was he for the past 16 years?”

“I don’t know. You can ask him yourself. I just found a letter from a social worker, saying your mother left a note with his information around the time you were born, in case something happens.”

“I don’t need some drunk with no self respect, who missed out on my whole life, to just march in and rescue me from Dave’s second home.” you scoffed. “Just call my aunt to pick me up and I’ll be on my way.”

“No can do, Y/N. Give the man a chance.” He left, leaving you alone to roll your eyes at the thought of the incoming encounter. You didn’t need him to wander in here and save you like a damsel in distress. What happened with the past 16 years? This isn’t the first time you got in trouble.

You heard the door open and Tim talk to someone. Raising an eyebrow in their direction, you tried to eavesdrop but failed. Next thing you know, the cell door is opening and Tim is standing there staring at you. “He signed the release forms.”

“After all this time, you’re just gonna let some stranger take me? What if he’s like a serial killer? What if I never get to tell you I told you so after he kills me?”

He rolled his eyes holding the door open for you. You entered the room and saw the last person you expected sitting by the desk. “Oh this is some kind of a joke.”, you scoffed.

Tony froze, his heart beating so fast like it was trying to escape his chest. First impressions matter after all “You must be Y/N. Hi, I’m Tony.”

Tim took a plastic bag and emptied the containing items on the table. “And here’s your stuff Y/N, you are free to go.”

You shot a sharpe glance in the direction of the man behind the table. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re only doing things because you’re sick of me.”

You unexpectedly strolled out the place, causing Tony to slightly run beside you. “Hey, Y/N!” he called, causing you to turn around.

“What?” you asked frowning.

“C-can you come with me please?”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.” he said, holding his car door open. Your rolled your eyes, and entered the vehicle slamming the door shut. Tony frowned, but still felt a huge weight fall off his shoulders. He ran around the car and quickly entered his side.

Another boring drive from your boring home town to wherever the hell he was leading you. You kept your eyes on the road the whole time, not allowing yourself to look in his direction. Catching glimpse of a watch, you realised the two of you were driving for almost three hours. Finally, you broke the heavy silence. “So you’re not even close as talkative as you are on TV.”

He shook his head, feeling the tension build up in his shoulders. He didn’t want to mess this up. When he got the call few hours ago, he thought it was a prank or something. Now, you looked at him with a dead stare, bored out of your mind.

He couldn’t mess this up.

“I just don’t know what to say.”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe something like Hey, Y/N! Long time, no see man, how’ve you been?”

He laughed at this. “Tom called your-“

“Tim.”

“Right. Sorry. Tim called your aunt to let her know that you’ll be staying with me.”

“How do you even know my mother was telling the truth? Maybe she just decided to wing it and slam your name on the papers.”

“One way to find out.” he said, hitting the breaks. You hadn’t even noticed the car had entered a garage. You released your seatbelt. “Where are we?”

“You’ll see.” You looked around, following him as he entered an elevator. A voice spoke and took you by surprise. “Welcome back Mr Stark. Captain Rogers asked me to alert you about your meeting tomorrow.”

“Tell him to bugger off.” he muttered and turned to face you, feeling your confused gaze on him. “It’s Friday. H-her name is Friday, she’s my computer.”

You tapped him on the shoulder, strolling in through the door. Looking around you, you found yourself in a lab filled with all sorts of buttons you were tempted to push. Looking out the big window, you realised it was already morning. Must’ve fallen asleep in the car, you thought. Catching a glimpse of a short man with glasses and a lab coat heading your way, you turned around. “Tony, I gotta talk to you about these calculations for the project alpha. How do you read your own handwriting?” he looked up from the paper, only to see you. “You’re not Tony.”

You stretched your lips as far as you could. “I’m not Tony.”

“Where is he?”

“He was just in the elevator.”

“I’m here!” Tony called, carrying something in his hands. “I see you’ve met Y/N.” You chuckled, waving your hand in the man’s direction. “There’s a possibility she could be my daughter, so...” he took out a little plastic bag and quickly pulled out a strand of your hair before you could object, handing it to the man in the lab coat. “...do your magic.”

Bruce’s jaw flew open as took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before taking the bag. He handed the papers in his hand to Tony. “Decipher this. I’ll let you know once I’m done.”

You raised yourself on your toes, peeking to the papers over Tony’s arm. “Dear lord, how do you read your own handwriting?”

“Hilarious.” he commented, throwing them away in the trash can. “Wanna eat something?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you replied “Wouldn’t mind.”

The kitchen was a large room, obviously built for the whole team to fit in. You made yourself cereal and sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter, Tony leaning against the fridge across from you.

“What?” you asked, your mouth full.

He snapped out of his little chain of thought. He shook his head and went over to the couch.

It’s not that he was afraid of talking to you, he was afraid that you didn’t like him already. He had missed out on your entire life, and even if he is your biological father he’s still a stranger. He couldn’t live with himself if he had harmed you more than his absence already has, so he decided to keep his distance.

You two were in the middle of a movie in the common room, which you had suggested to avoid breaking the ice, when the elevator arrived, followed by Bruce’s footsteps over the room. “Tones, I got the results.” He handed an envelope to him, before gently patting him on the shoulder and leaving. “Thanks buddy.” Tony muttered. “Should I have the honours?”

“Just open it.” you said, clenching the remote control as hard as you could. He did as you said, his eyes rapidly flying over the papers. His eyes widened, and he swallowed a thick nothing. “It’s positive.”

CHAPTER II

Alligators Quotes

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• A gun is not a weapon! It’s a tool, like a butcher’s knife, or a harpoon, or an alligator. – Homer • All the pictures on the walls, they all white as lilies and smiling like alligators. – Charlaine Harris • Alligator: The crocodile of America, superior in every detail to the crocodile of the effete monarchies of the Old World. – Ambrose Bierce • Alligators and crocodiles are some of the most aggressive creatures on the planet – they’ll take down a boat if you come up to their nest. – Jack Hanna • Au revoir, jewelled alligators and white hotels, hallucinatory forests, farewell. – J. G. Ballard

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Alligator', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_alligator').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_alligator img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Besides alligators, the only animals to be feared are the poisonous serpents. These are certainly common enough in the forest, but no fatal accident happened during the whole time of my residence. – Henry Walter Bates • Donald Trump is my leader. And if he decides to drop the swamp and the alligator, I will drop the swamp and the alligator. – Newt Gingrich • Don’t taunt the alligator until after you’ve crossed the creek. – Dan Rather • Down in Louisiana where the alligators grow so mean, there lived a girl that I swear to the world made the alligators look tame. – Tony Joe White • Everything on Saturday morning [cartoons] moves alike that’s one of the reasons it’s not animation. The drawings are different, but everybody acts the same way, their feet move the same way, and everybody runs the same way. It doesn’t matter whether it’s an alligator or a man or a baby or anything, they all move the same. – Chuck Jones • Far off in the red mangroves an alligator has heaved himself onto a hummock of grass and lies there, studying his poems. – Mary Oliver • Feed the alligators and you get bigger alligators. – Helen Gurley Brown • First time I saw an alligator gar I damn near threw up. They ain’t natural anything get that big. It’s ten feet long and three feet at the girth. Not one of God’s creations like you and meSome say they ain’t afraid of alligator gar fish. Bullshit. You look at that thing. It’s big and mean. Swallow both of us. Them people say they ain’t afraid tellin’ lies. – Bukka White • I dislike the word ’emerging artist.’ Emerging connotes to me an alligator coming up from the water. I consider all artists to be artists, not rising, emerging, amateur, beginning, but the real thing. – Jack White • I look in music magazines now and see things on Luther Allison, and my name’s getting out there more, thanks to all the good people at Alligator Records and at my management company. – Luther Allison • I love The Inn at Palmetto Bluff, an Auberge Property in Bluffton, South Carolina. Its a spectacular corner of the world, with massive old trees lined with Spanish moss, and alligators swimming in the river. – Gail Simmons • I spent most of my 20s with these alligator wrestlers in the swamps of South Florida. – Karen Russell • I’m also fascinated by the difference between terror and fear. Fear says, “Do not actually put your hand in the alligator,” while terror says, “Avoid Florida entirely because alligators exist. – Mira Grant • I’ve tried that. I’ve tried aspirin, too. Rusty thinks I should smoke marijuana, and I did for a while, but it only makes me giggle. What I’ve found does the most good is just to get into a taxi and go to Tiffany’s. It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany’s, then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name. – Truman Capote • I’ve wrestled with alligators, I’ve tussled with a whale. I done handcuffed lightning And throw thunder in jail. You know I’m bad. just last week, I murdered a rock, Injured a stone, Hospitalized a brick. I’m so mean, I make medicine sick. – Muhammad Ali • If all I can say is I’m not in this swamp, I’m not in this swamp then there is not a rope in front of me and there is not an alligator behind me and there is not a girl sitting at the edge eating a hot dog and if I believe that, then dying would be the only answer because then Death couldn’t come and say Peachy to me anymore and after all she has a brother who believes in hope. – Tori Amos • If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say in a pleasant and hopeful voice, “Well this isn’t too bad, I don’t have a left arm anymore but at least nobody will ever ask me if I’m left-handed or right-handed,” but most of us would say something more along the lines of, “Aaaaaa! My arm! My arm!” – Daniel Handler • If five years from now we solve the access problem, but what we’re hearing is all encrypted, I’ll probably, if I’m still here, be talking about that in a very different way: the objective is the same. The objective is for us to get those conversations whether they’re by an alligator clip or ones and zeros. Whoever they are, whatever they are, I need them. – Louis J. Freeh • If I could rest anywhere, it would be in Arkansas, where the men are of the real half-horse, half-alligator breed such as grows nowhere else on the face of the universal earth. – Davy Crockett • IGNORANCE I didn’t know love would make me this crazy, with my eyes like the river Ceyhun carrying me in its rapids out to sea,where every bit of shattered boat sinks to the bottom. An alligator lifts its head and swallows the ocean, then the ocean floor becomes a desert covering the alligator in sand drifts. Changes do happen. I do not know how, or what remains of what has disappeared into the absolute. I hear so many stories and explanations, but I keep quiet, because I don’t know anything, and because something I swallowed in the ocean has made me completely content with ignorance. – Rumi • Im Southern, so alligator tail is pretty interesting and yummy. – LeAnn Rimes • I’m that same David Crockett, fresh from the backwoods, half-horse, half-alligator, a little touched with the snapping turtle; can wade the Mississippi, leap the Ohio, ride upon a streak of lightning, and slip without a scratch down a honey locust [tree]. – Davy Crockett • It embarrasses me to think of all those years I was buying silk suits and alligator shoes that were hurting my feet; cars that I just parked, and the dust would just build up on them. – George Foreman • It makes my skin crawl to think about the violent ways snakes, lizards, alligators and other exotic creatures are raised and killed for boots, bags and belts. – Kelly Brook • It took me the bulk of my twenties to write one book about a family of alligator wrestlers. Whereas somebody like Steve Martin is releasing his latest banjo symphony, having just completed another movie and acclaimed, best-selling novel. – Karen Russell • It’s so hard for me to sit back here in this studio, looking at a guy out here, hollering my name!—When last year I spent more money, on spilled liquor, in bars from one side of this world to the other, than you made! You’re talking to the Rolex wearing, diamond ring wearing, kiss stealing, whoa! wheelin dealin’, limosuine riding, jet flying son of a gun and I’m having a hard time holding these alligators down! – Ric Flair • It’s hard, when you’re up to your armpits in alligators, to remember you came here to drain the swamp. – Ronald Reagan • It’s the chauffeur’s outfit from hell, right down to the alligator shoes. I was wearing these alligator shoes and this very interesting and haunting chauffeur’s outfit, but what really did it for me was the hat. And then, when I eventually get my eye taken out, the gold eye really brought it home for me. – Dennis Haysbert • It’s what you’d expect out of Baton Rouge: people tailgating with shrimp étouffée, everything from alligators roasting on a barbecue to dishes that you would get in the French Quarter. These people are serious and they are legit and they’re ready to go. – Erin Andrews • I’ve just done a movie – Albino Alligator – with Viggo Mortensen, who’s an actor I idolize. He influenced me in a way that has helped me move toward getting lead parts instead of supporting parts, merely through his presence. So now I tell everyone, as a joke, that I’m entering my Viggo Mortensen phase. – Skeet Ulrich • Just take them rascals [rapists, killers, child abusers] out in the swamp / Put ’em on their knees and tie ’em to a stump / Let the rattlers and the bugs and the alligators do the rest. – Charlie Daniels • Maybe humans are just the pet alligators that God flushed down the toilet. – Chuck Palahniuk • My father being an outdoors person, he used to take us on quite a few adventures thorugh the wild areas down there, introducing us to alligators and rattlesnakes and all the trees and plants. – Jim Fowler • My mom was beautiful; she was supposed to be the original Jane in the original Tarzan movie. They asked her to put her foot in the water and there was an alligator in there, and she wouldn’t put her foot in the water. – Dr. John • My number one rule is to keep that camera rolling. Even if it’s shaky or slightly out of focus, I don’t give a rip. Even if a big old alligator is chewing me up I want to go down and go, ‘Crikey!’ just before I die. That would be the ultimate for me. – Steve Irwin • Nobody in the city of Los Angeles knows how to catch an alligator, … We have no experience in recreation and parks, the zoo or animal control. – Janice Hahn • Not much is known about alligators. They don’t train well. And they’re unwieldy and rowdy to work with in laboratories. – Diane Ackerman • On one hole, I hit an alligator so hard, he’s now my golf bag. – Bob Hope • Once when I was golfing in Georgia, I hooked the ball into the swamp. I went in after it and found an alligator wearing a shirt with a picture of a little golfer on it. – Buddy Hackett • People wrestle alligators but not once has someone done it without an audience. – Doug Stanhope • Places like Hilton Head, with water adjacency and nice climates, are in high demand, and land values are insane. In the case of Hilton Head, which was developed in 1970 on what had been a mosquito- and alligator-infested swampy barrier island, land value has leaped from nearly zero to now unaffordable. – Susan Orlean • Really, it was difficult to determine which I had most reason to fear—dogs, alligators or men! – Solomon Northup • Remember that postcard Grandpa sent us from Florida of that Alligator biting that woman’s bottom? That’s right, we all thought it was hilarious. But, it turns out we were wrong. That alligator was sexually harassing that woman. – Homer • Remodeling defies the principles of modern commerce. You shell out great sums of money to people over whom you have no authority or power, yet these same people are constantly insinuating that you’re cheap. (It reminded me of medicine, another area where you shell out great sums of money to people over whom you have no authority or power, who make you feel guilty for questioning a bill.) Construction workers are the blue-collar version of the snooty salespeople at Gucci who make $8 an hour but look down on you if you balk at a $400 alligator wallet. – Margo Kaufman • Sanford is a little redneck town north of Orlando. It’s right off Lake Jessup.Lake Jessup is the most alligator infested lake in the United States and I live literally 5/10ths of a mile north of that lake right off the swamp down here. I’ve lived here since ’94. When I left Nebraska my dad got a job at a private Christian school in West Palm Beach. People will say “You’re not really a country boy. You’re from Palm Beach, Florida.” Well, I moved to West Palm Beach, FL which is a far cry from Palm Beach, FL. There’s a reason it’s called West Palm Beach. – Larry the Cable Guy • See you later, alligator. After a while, crocodile. – Bill Haley • She gazed toward the marsh that grew thicker, deeper, greener with approaching summer. Mosquitoes whined in there, breeding in the dark water. Alligators slid through it, silent death. It was a place where snakes could slither and bogs could suck the shoe right off your foot. And it was a place, she thought, that went bright and beautiful with the twinkling of fireflies, where wildflowers thrived in the shade and the stingy light. Where an eagle could soar like a king. There was no beauty without risk. No life without it. – Nora Roberts • Skins tanned to the consistency of well-traveled alligator suitcases. – Russell Baker • So he left the lagoon and entered the jungle again, within a few days was completely lost, following the lagoons southward through the increasing rain and heat, attacked by alligators and giant bats, a second Adam searching for the forgotten paradises of the reborn Sun. – J. G. Ballard • That dreadful alligator attack in Orlando would never have happened if Disney had put up real warning signs, like other Florida resorts do. But wild alligators don’t fit the Disney image, so they were no proper warnings, and a child died for no reason. – Carl Hiaasen • The government competes in the private sector the way an alligator competes with a duck. – Mike Pence • The Marquis sighed. “I thought it was just a legend,” he said. “Like the alligators in the sewers of New York City.” Old Bailey nodded, sagely: “What, the big white buggers? They’re down there. I had a friend lost a head to one of them.” A moment of silence. Old Naeiley handed the statue back to the Marquis. Then he raised his hand, and snapped it, like a crocodile hand, at the Carabas. “It was OK,” gurned Old Bailey with a grin that was most terrible to behold. “He had another. – Neil Gaiman • The sensation of writing a book is the sensation of spinning, blinded by love and daring. It is the sensation of a stunt pilot’s turning barrel rolls, or an inchworm’s blind rearing from a stem in search of a route. At its worst, it feels like alligator wrestling, at the level of the sentence. – Annie Dillard • There’s a lot of time sitting in movies, so you can put alligators in people’s trailers in your spare time. So it [making a film] moves slower, which in some ways is great, because you can live with a scene and invest in it a lot. And in some ways it’s hard, because sometimes you can start to lose your energy a little bit, but both are fun. – Mary-Louise Parker • They will do more whether we do what we’re doing or whether we don’t do what we’re doing. And the idea that you could appease them [terrorists] by stopping doing what we’re doing or some implication that by doing what we’re doing we’re inciting them to attack us is just utter nonsense. It’s just – it’s kind of like feeding an alligator, hoping it eats you last. – Donald Rumsfeld • Three million alligators were killed in Florida between 1880 and 1900. Goody! – Will Cuppy • Turn the goddam music up! My heart feels like an alligator! – Hunter S. Thompson • Unoka went into an inner room and soon returned with a small wooden disc containing a kola nut, some alligator pepper and a lump of white chalk. “I have kola,” he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest. “Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,” replied Okoye passing back the disc. “No, it is for you, I think,” and they argued like this for a few moments before Unoka accepted the honor of breaking the kola. Okoye, meanwhile, took the lump of chalk, drew some lines on the floor, and then painted his big toe. – Chinua Achebe • Well, Im wrestling alligators. – Claire McCaskill • What is a turducken? An exclusive culinary creation available by special order from some little Cajun town down south. Entirely deboned, a turducken consists of a turkey, stuffed with duck, stuffed with a chicken, like an edible Russian nesting doll. Some were stuffed with alligator, crap, shrimp; my favorite was the traditional cornbread variety. – S.A. Bodeen • When Amos Moses was a boy his daddy would use him for alligator bait, tie a rope around his neck and throw him in the swamp. – Jerry Reed • When I was a little kid, I was the first kid in my neighborhood to have a pet alligator. – Benicio Del Toro • When I was young, I had a big problem with warts. It started with one on the side of my little finger. A year later, I had it on all my fingers. My hands looked like the hands of an alligator. So I fist bumped people instead of shaking hands for a few years. – Berhan Ahmed • When we were shooting in Shreveport, me and a couple of friends went down to Lafayette, because they had a big Zydeco music festival down there. We spent two days dancing to Zydeco music, eating fried alligator… It was one of the craziest festivals I’ve ever been to in my life, but I loved it. – Alexander Skarsgard • Writing fantasy lets me imagine a great deal more than, say, writing about alligators, and lets me write about places more distant than Florida, but I can tell you things about Florida and alligators, let you make the connection all on your own. – Terry Brooks • Writing is the hardest way of earning a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators. – Richard Miller • You know you’re old when someone compliments you on your alligator shoes, and you’re barefoot. – Phyllis Diller • You’ve got forever; and somehow you can’t do much with it. You’ve got forever; and it’s a mile wide and an inch deep and full of alligators. – Jim Thompson

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Alligators Quotes

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• A gun is not a weapon! It’s a tool, like a butcher’s knife, or a harpoon, or an alligator. – Homer • All the pictures on the walls, they all white as lilies and smiling like alligators. – Charlaine Harris • Alligator: The crocodile of America, superior in every detail to the crocodile of the effete monarchies of the Old World. – Ambrose Bierce • Alligators and crocodiles are some of the most aggressive creatures on the planet – they’ll take down a boat if you come up to their nest. – Jack Hanna • Au revoir, jewelled alligators and white hotels, hallucinatory forests, farewell. – J. G. Ballard

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Alligator', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_alligator').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_alligator img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Besides alligators, the only animals to be feared are the poisonous serpents. These are certainly common enough in the forest, but no fatal accident happened during the whole time of my residence. – Henry Walter Bates • Donald Trump is my leader. And if he decides to drop the swamp and the alligator, I will drop the swamp and the alligator. – Newt Gingrich • Don’t taunt the alligator until after you’ve crossed the creek. – Dan Rather • Down in Louisiana where the alligators grow so mean, there lived a girl that I swear to the world made the alligators look tame. – Tony Joe White • Everything on Saturday morning [cartoons] moves alike that’s one of the reasons it’s not animation. The drawings are different, but everybody acts the same way, their feet move the same way, and everybody runs the same way. It doesn’t matter whether it’s an alligator or a man or a baby or anything, they all move the same. – Chuck Jones • Far off in the red mangroves an alligator has heaved himself onto a hummock of grass and lies there, studying his poems. – Mary Oliver • Feed the alligators and you get bigger alligators. – Helen Gurley Brown • First time I saw an alligator gar I damn near threw up. They ain’t natural anything get that big. It’s ten feet long and three feet at the girth. Not one of God’s creations like you and meSome say they ain’t afraid of alligator gar fish. Bullshit. You look at that thing. It’s big and mean. Swallow both of us. Them people say they ain’t afraid tellin’ lies. – Bukka White • I dislike the word ’emerging artist.’ Emerging connotes to me an alligator coming up from the water. I consider all artists to be artists, not rising, emerging, amateur, beginning, but the real thing. – Jack White • I look in music magazines now and see things on Luther Allison, and my name’s getting out there more, thanks to all the good people at Alligator Records and at my management company. – Luther Allison • I love The Inn at Palmetto Bluff, an Auberge Property in Bluffton, South Carolina. Its a spectacular corner of the world, with massive old trees lined with Spanish moss, and alligators swimming in the river. – Gail Simmons • I spent most of my 20s with these alligator wrestlers in the swamps of South Florida. – Karen Russell • I’m also fascinated by the difference between terror and fear. Fear says, “Do not actually put your hand in the alligator,” while terror says, “Avoid Florida entirely because alligators exist. – Mira Grant • I’ve tried that. I’ve tried aspirin, too. Rusty thinks I should smoke marijuana, and I did for a while, but it only makes me giggle. What I’ve found does the most good is just to get into a taxi and go to Tiffany’s. It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany’s, then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name. – Truman Capote • I’ve wrestled with alligators, I’ve tussled with a whale. I done handcuffed lightning And throw thunder in jail. You know I’m bad. just last week, I murdered a rock, Injured a stone, Hospitalized a brick. I’m so mean, I make medicine sick. – Muhammad Ali • If all I can say is I’m not in this swamp, I’m not in this swamp then there is not a rope in front of me and there is not an alligator behind me and there is not a girl sitting at the edge eating a hot dog and if I believe that, then dying would be the only answer because then Death couldn’t come and say Peachy to me anymore and after all she has a brother who believes in hope. – Tori Amos • If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say in a pleasant and hopeful voice, “Well this isn’t too bad, I don’t have a left arm anymore but at least nobody will ever ask me if I’m left-handed or right-handed,” but most of us would say something more along the lines of, “Aaaaaa! My arm! My arm!” – Daniel Handler • If five years from now we solve the access problem, but what we’re hearing is all encrypted, I’ll probably, if I’m still here, be talking about that in a very different way: the objective is the same. The objective is for us to get those conversations whether they’re by an alligator clip or ones and zeros. Whoever they are, whatever they are, I need them. – Louis J. Freeh • If I could rest anywhere, it would be in Arkansas, where the men are of the real half-horse, half-alligator breed such as grows nowhere else on the face of the universal earth. – Davy Crockett • IGNORANCE I didn’t know love would make me this crazy, with my eyes like the river Ceyhun carrying me in its rapids out to sea,where every bit of shattered boat sinks to the bottom. An alligator lifts its head and swallows the ocean, then the ocean floor becomes a desert covering the alligator in sand drifts. Changes do happen. I do not know how, or what remains of what has disappeared into the absolute. I hear so many stories and explanations, but I keep quiet, because I don’t know anything, and because something I swallowed in the ocean has made me completely content with ignorance. – Rumi • Im Southern, so alligator tail is pretty interesting and yummy. – LeAnn Rimes • I’m that same David Crockett, fresh from the backwoods, half-horse, half-alligator, a little touched with the snapping turtle; can wade the Mississippi, leap the Ohio, ride upon a streak of lightning, and slip without a scratch down a honey locust [tree]. – Davy Crockett • It embarrasses me to think of all those years I was buying silk suits and alligator shoes that were hurting my feet; cars that I just parked, and the dust would just build up on them. – George Foreman • It makes my skin crawl to think about the violent ways snakes, lizards, alligators and other exotic creatures are raised and killed for boots, bags and belts. – Kelly Brook • It took me the bulk of my twenties to write one book about a family of alligator wrestlers. Whereas somebody like Steve Martin is releasing his latest banjo symphony, having just completed another movie and acclaimed, best-selling novel. – Karen Russell • It’s so hard for me to sit back here in this studio, looking at a guy out here, hollering my name!—When last year I spent more money, on spilled liquor, in bars from one side of this world to the other, than you made! You’re talking to the Rolex wearing, diamond ring wearing, kiss stealing, whoa! wheelin dealin’, limosuine riding, jet flying son of a gun and I’m having a hard time holding these alligators down! – Ric Flair • It’s hard, when you’re up to your armpits in alligators, to remember you came here to drain the swamp. – Ronald Reagan • It’s the chauffeur’s outfit from hell, right down to the alligator shoes. I was wearing these alligator shoes and this very interesting and haunting chauffeur’s outfit, but what really did it for me was the hat. And then, when I eventually get my eye taken out, the gold eye really brought it home for me. – Dennis Haysbert • It’s what you’d expect out of Baton Rouge: people tailgating with shrimp étouffée, everything from alligators roasting on a barbecue to dishes that you would get in the French Quarter. These people are serious and they are legit and they’re ready to go. – Erin Andrews • I’ve just done a movie – Albino Alligator – with Viggo Mortensen, who’s an actor I idolize. He influenced me in a way that has helped me move toward getting lead parts instead of supporting parts, merely through his presence. So now I tell everyone, as a joke, that I’m entering my Viggo Mortensen phase. – Skeet Ulrich • Just take them rascals [rapists, killers, child abusers] out in the swamp / Put ’em on their knees and tie ’em to a stump / Let the rattlers and the bugs and the alligators do the rest. – Charlie Daniels • Maybe humans are just the pet alligators that God flushed down the toilet. – Chuck Palahniuk • My father being an outdoors person, he used to take us on quite a few adventures thorugh the wild areas down there, introducing us to alligators and rattlesnakes and all the trees and plants. – Jim Fowler • My mom was beautiful; she was supposed to be the original Jane in the original Tarzan movie. They asked her to put her foot in the water and there was an alligator in there, and she wouldn’t put her foot in the water. – Dr. John • My number one rule is to keep that camera rolling. Even if it’s shaky or slightly out of focus, I don’t give a rip. Even if a big old alligator is chewing me up I want to go down and go, ‘Crikey!’ just before I die. That would be the ultimate for me. – Steve Irwin • Nobody in the city of Los Angeles knows how to catch an alligator, … We have no experience in recreation and parks, the zoo or animal control. – Janice Hahn • Not much is known about alligators. They don’t train well. And they’re unwieldy and rowdy to work with in laboratories. – Diane Ackerman • On one hole, I hit an alligator so hard, he’s now my golf bag. – Bob Hope • Once when I was golfing in Georgia, I hooked the ball into the swamp. I went in after it and found an alligator wearing a shirt with a picture of a little golfer on it. – Buddy Hackett • People wrestle alligators but not once has someone done it without an audience. – Doug Stanhope • Places like Hilton Head, with water adjacency and nice climates, are in high demand, and land values are insane. In the case of Hilton Head, which was developed in 1970 on what had been a mosquito- and alligator-infested swampy barrier island, land value has leaped from nearly zero to now unaffordable. – Susan Orlean • Really, it was difficult to determine which I had most reason to fear—dogs, alligators or men! – Solomon Northup • Remember that postcard Grandpa sent us from Florida of that Alligator biting that woman’s bottom? That’s right, we all thought it was hilarious. But, it turns out we were wrong. That alligator was sexually harassing that woman. – Homer • Remodeling defies the principles of modern commerce. You shell out great sums of money to people over whom you have no authority or power, yet these same people are constantly insinuating that you’re cheap. (It reminded me of medicine, another area where you shell out great sums of money to people over whom you have no authority or power, who make you feel guilty for questioning a bill.) Construction workers are the blue-collar version of the snooty salespeople at Gucci who make $8 an hour but look down on you if you balk at a $400 alligator wallet. – Margo Kaufman • Sanford is a little redneck town north of Orlando. It’s right off Lake Jessup.Lake Jessup is the most alligator infested lake in the United States and I live literally 5/10ths of a mile north of that lake right off the swamp down here. I’ve lived here since ’94. When I left Nebraska my dad got a job at a private Christian school in West Palm Beach. People will say “You’re not really a country boy. You’re from Palm Beach, Florida.” Well, I moved to West Palm Beach, FL which is a far cry from Palm Beach, FL. There’s a reason it’s called West Palm Beach. – Larry the Cable Guy • See you later, alligator. After a while, crocodile. – Bill Haley • She gazed toward the marsh that grew thicker, deeper, greener with approaching summer. Mosquitoes whined in there, breeding in the dark water. Alligators slid through it, silent death. It was a place where snakes could slither and bogs could suck the shoe right off your foot. And it was a place, she thought, that went bright and beautiful with the twinkling of fireflies, where wildflowers thrived in the shade and the stingy light. Where an eagle could soar like a king. There was no beauty without risk. No life without it. – Nora Roberts • Skins tanned to the consistency of well-traveled alligator suitcases. – Russell Baker • So he left the lagoon and entered the jungle again, within a few days was completely lost, following the lagoons southward through the increasing rain and heat, attacked by alligators and giant bats, a second Adam searching for the forgotten paradises of the reborn Sun. – J. G. Ballard • That dreadful alligator attack in Orlando would never have happened if Disney had put up real warning signs, like other Florida resorts do. But wild alligators don’t fit the Disney image, so they were no proper warnings, and a child died for no reason. – Carl Hiaasen • The government competes in the private sector the way an alligator competes with a duck. – Mike Pence • The Marquis sighed. “I thought it was just a legend,” he said. “Like the alligators in the sewers of New York City.” Old Bailey nodded, sagely: “What, the big white buggers? They’re down there. I had a friend lost a head to one of them.” A moment of silence. Old Naeiley handed the statue back to the Marquis. Then he raised his hand, and snapped it, like a crocodile hand, at the Carabas. “It was OK,” gurned Old Bailey with a grin that was most terrible to behold. “He had another. – Neil Gaiman • The sensation of writing a book is the sensation of spinning, blinded by love and daring. It is the sensation of a stunt pilot’s turning barrel rolls, or an inchworm’s blind rearing from a stem in search of a route. At its worst, it feels like alligator wrestling, at the level of the sentence. – Annie Dillard • There’s a lot of time sitting in movies, so you can put alligators in people’s trailers in your spare time. So it [making a film] moves slower, which in some ways is great, because you can live with a scene and invest in it a lot. And in some ways it’s hard, because sometimes you can start to lose your energy a little bit, but both are fun. – Mary-Louise Parker • They will do more whether we do what we’re doing or whether we don’t do what we’re doing. And the idea that you could appease them [terrorists] by stopping doing what we’re doing or some implication that by doing what we’re doing we’re inciting them to attack us is just utter nonsense. It’s just – it’s kind of like feeding an alligator, hoping it eats you last. – Donald Rumsfeld • Three million alligators were killed in Florida between 1880 and 1900. Goody! – Will Cuppy • Turn the goddam music up! My heart feels like an alligator! – Hunter S. Thompson • Unoka went into an inner room and soon returned with a small wooden disc containing a kola nut, some alligator pepper and a lump of white chalk. “I have kola,” he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest. “Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,” replied Okoye passing back the disc. “No, it is for you, I think,” and they argued like this for a few moments before Unoka accepted the honor of breaking the kola. Okoye, meanwhile, took the lump of chalk, drew some lines on the floor, and then painted his big toe. – Chinua Achebe • Well, Im wrestling alligators. – Claire McCaskill • What is a turducken? An exclusive culinary creation available by special order from some little Cajun town down south. Entirely deboned, a turducken consists of a turkey, stuffed with duck, stuffed with a chicken, like an edible Russian nesting doll. Some were stuffed with alligator, crap, shrimp; my favorite was the traditional cornbread variety. – S.A. Bodeen • When Amos Moses was a boy his daddy would use him for alligator bait, tie a rope around his neck and throw him in the swamp. – Jerry Reed • When I was a little kid, I was the first kid in my neighborhood to have a pet alligator. – Benicio Del Toro • When I was young, I had a big problem with warts. It started with one on the side of my little finger. A year later, I had it on all my fingers. My hands looked like the hands of an alligator. So I fist bumped people instead of shaking hands for a few years. – Berhan Ahmed • When we were shooting in Shreveport, me and a couple of friends went down to Lafayette, because they had a big Zydeco music festival down there. We spent two days dancing to Zydeco music, eating fried alligator… It was one of the craziest festivals I’ve ever been to in my life, but I loved it. – Alexander Skarsgard • Writing fantasy lets me imagine a great deal more than, say, writing about alligators, and lets me write about places more distant than Florida, but I can tell you things about Florida and alligators, let you make the connection all on your own. – Terry Brooks • Writing is the hardest way of earning a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators. – Richard Miller • You know you’re old when someone compliments you on your alligator shoes, and you’re barefoot. – Phyllis Diller • You’ve got forever; and somehow you can’t do much with it. You’ve got forever; and it’s a mile wide and an inch deep and full of alligators. – Jim Thompson

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Why Im tempted to contact my late nan on Facebook

My nan was 91 when she died last year, but that hadnt stopped her joining Facebook and her continued online existence makes it possible for me to pretend, if just for a moment, that she is still around

As I scroll through my list of friends, my finger hovers over the mouse and I consider for perhaps the second time this week whether Iought to send my nan a message. While not a frequent Facebook flier, she decided a few years ago to have a jolly good try at getting online, and subsequently I received my first octogenarian-friend request: my 89-year-old nan now had a virtual as well as a physical presence.

So why not send her a note? The problem is that, in the harsh physical world, she no longer exists: last December, when she was 91, a stroke stole her from her four children, ninegrandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. But on Facebook and Skype, and the timeless world of comments and pictures, I can still find my grandmother and pretend just for a moment that she is still with me.

Of course, I realise that the probable outcome of typing a quick Hi, how are you? into the chat box would either besilence, or a bemused reply from my aunt. I know that she was laid to rest on 15 December 2015; that she had the kind of life that people refer to as a good innings. But that doesnt stop me hoping that if I pressed send, she might answer one last time.

My nan wasnt a regular part of my life in a traditional sense. She moved to Bath a good three hours drive from where I lived in Bedfordshire in 1989, when I was 11, and I probably saw her no more than once a year as a teen. Butwe often wrote to one another arguably a more intimate method of correspondence than chatting on the phone and when I moved to France in 2009, she regularly came to stay.

Getting to know your grandmother as an adult seeing the world eye-to-eye isnt a gift afforded to many. The fact that my nan lived to 91, retaining her marbles and wicked sense of humour, meant that we formed a bond that transcended the normal grandma-grandchild relationship. Apeople person, she was always out-and-about, travelling and mingling; and this may be the reason why being with her was always so much fun.

It is probably also why, although Iknew she had a heart problem and had had a series of mini-strokes over the preceding decade, I was still shocked when she was hospitalised in August last year. This was the woman who had broken her thigh bone and bounced back aged 83; the woman who had once had a mini-stroke and taken the bus home afterwards.

This time, too, with a strength of spirit common to her generation, she didnt give up without a fight: after afew weeks she had regained enough speech to dictate an email for my aunt to send me. Hopefully be out of here soon, it said. Hope to come and seeyou.

No doubt she suffered in hospital and was frustrated or sad from time to time, but her quickness to smile and laugh despite her difficulties caused one of the nurses to joke that she was their favourite. My grandfather, to whom she had been married for 65 years, used to sing to her on his visits; something that sounds wonderfully old-fashioned and touchingly loving. Her children were with her each day. Iflove itself could have cured her, then she would still be here.

Sadly, my crossing from France wasdelayed because of passport problems, and shortly before I made the trip to Bournemouth hospital with my five children, including a new baby, and exhausted husband in tow, she had asecond stroke. I was warned that she had regained very little of her speech; that she might not recognise me; that her vision wasnt great, and I have to admit that, walking along the corridor to her room, I felt sick with nerves.

But although her weight had plummeted and I saw her with grey hair for the first time in my life, she wasstill my lovely nana. Our eyes locked and, while she was barely able to speak bar the words wow and ha!, the reacquisition of which sumsup her character perfectly Icould see through her expression thatshe was still very much there. Sheheld my new babys hand and, as little Robbie gazed at this woman 91 years his senior, there was an almost breathtaking connection.

I can see her pulling through, Ioptimistically told my mother on thetelephone.

A month later, the news arrived that she had passed away at home, in her daughters arms: and it hit me for six. Longer term, though, Ihave not been sure how to grieve: the status of our relationship means that Ihavent yet felt the extent of her loss, but instead experience it in waves, when I pass a photograph or click on my Skype contacts and am reminded once again that she has gone.

Wynn Crosss Facebook page.

In a way, Nan and I had always existed in a virtual world of sorts snail mail, then Facebook rather than telephone or in person so Iam not reminded by an empty chair or tangible absence that she is no longer around. I havent like my grandad walked into the kitchen and seen her ghost.

True, the letters no longer arrive, but to all intents and purposes, life remains a sort of odd status quo. The time seems to fly by much too quickly for my liking, she wrote in the last letter I had from her; and during her final stay in France, in 2013, she told me she was living on borrowed time. Looking back, I wonder if she knew.

Death is, in so many ways, straightforward. There are rules: you have afuneral, you shed tears, buy flowers. But in this age of social media where we are split into two selves there remains a conundrum. What happens to our cyber-self when we pass? Pages of others who have died are often filled with post-death notes from friends: Imiss you or Still cant believe youre not with us. Perhaps keeping our profile in existence is providing amuch-needed outlet for others?

These days, families and friends are often scattered by circumstance: lured elsewhere by opportunity, lifestyle or the cost of living. Yet friendship is, more than ever, surviving long-distance; in this internet age, close connections can form with people whom we rarely or never see in the flesh.

In this way, we create an existence that transcends the physical. A ghost in the machine. My grandmother is here, yet she is gone; is present online, yet only in a virtual, cyber afterlife. I am comforted but haunted by her name in my friends list.

And still, once in a while, I consider messaging her, on the off chance that my greeting might just get through.

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